


Blue and Yellow

by Thestarlitrose



Series: A Life in Colors [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crowley had a difficult childhood, Human AU, M/M, Non-explicit descriptions of child abuse, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Warlock is Crowley's Son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/pseuds/Thestarlitrose
Summary: From an early age, children receive colorful scars parallel to the scars of their soulmate.Previously titled "Colors."
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: A Life in Colors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593364
Comments: 25
Kudos: 451





	Blue and Yellow

Soul marks are, as a rule, unique to each person. When a child is born, their canvas is typically blank, uncolored by their future soulmate. If their soulmate is the older of the pair, old scars will likely begin to appear as soon as the three-month point, if not sooner.

As time passes, especially during childhood, people begin to receive their marks. Typically, these marks consist of scraped knees, and elbows; perhaps a purple scar from playing football or a yellow mark from that time they got into a fistfight with John down the street. Regardless, these marks stay with the children throughout their life.

Ezra, like most children, was quite young when he received his first soul mark. He had only just turned four-months-old, it was in the shape of four perfect crescent moons along the inside of his wrist. They were crimson red, and the little boy babbled about them for days before forgetting a time when they’d never been there. Ezra’s mother bit her lip when she saw them, recognizing the shape instantly.

His second appeared only three months later, a perfect circle on the inside of his elbow. It was bright orange and Ezra giggled happily until it too was forgotten.

As the boy grew, his body became a canvas of colors and Ezra’s parents grew worried. His mother noted with increasing horror that his mate had far too many suspicious scars.

When Ezra was five, strange new marks appeared on his back; large neon blue welts that looked suspiciously like belt marks.

By the time Ezra was ten, he had marks that covered his pale skin. His mother would wring her hands and worry her lip with each new scar that appeared.

By fifteen, Ezra had realized something wasn’t right. Where other’s his age only had a few markings, his body was near covered. Most were now faded, opaque.

Ezra was seventeen when he was woken up one night, his heart pounding, panic gripping him, his chest heaving as his soul marks flickered.

He’d screamed for his mother who had held him tightly, rocking him as his other half fought for life.

Ezra had never been so relieved when the panic eased, a new mark forming below his heart in a beautiful magenta.

“Why do they hurt him?” he’d asked his mother, she shook her head in reply as she held him tightly.

After that, it seemed to be better, and for that he was thankful. There had been a time when he would search the colorful marks, mapping each and every one so he  could be certain when a new one appeared.

Years passed, as they do.

He waited and watched for his soulmate, he prayed to God that she would keep him safe, that he would be happy, untouched again, and whole.

Ezra was 30 when he bought a bookshop on a whim. It was old and in disrepair, and he worried that he likely would lose everything in this venture. But the moment he’d walked into that store, his heart had been set that it would be his.

Life in Soho was good; interesting at the best of times and crowded at the worst. Ezra, much to his surprise, quickly made friends. There was good food and entertainment. He could spend hours with his nose in a book and happily pass the days away in his little world. The shop had slowly been repaired, each shelf, floorboard, and counter lovingly restored by Ezra. It was his home and his livelihood, he could almost be happy here if it wasn’t for the lingering ache of worry that was his other half.

He still hadn’t found them. He worried that perhaps they had died that terrible night all those years ago; though he knew it wasn’t true. Soul marks were tetchy, a mate could be killed, and the marks might stay. Other times a secondary soul mate’s scars could replace those of the one who died. The only thing that kept Ezra from madness was the occasional new mark that occurred. Only three since that terrible day, but he held on to them. Biding his time.

Then, on a cold December morning, a man and a little boy stumbled into his shop. Ezra had been standing at the till, the bell chimed, as it did often and when he glanced up, he nearly dropped the change he was holding in his hands.

He was beautiful, the most beautiful person Ezra had ever seen. He yearned to touch him, to speak to him and he had no idea how to deal with that.

The man’s hair was a dark auburn, he was slim and attractive, and Ezra’s heart leaped in his chest when he saw a purple scar on his bottom lip that mirrored one he received when he fell off his bike when he was nine.

The little boy in front of him was talking excitedly about something and he realized he needed to great them as was practice for potential customers. 

“Hello!” He called, “Be with you in a moment, feel free to browse!”

He’d turned his attention back to the other customer, doing his absolute best to stay nonchalant about the whole business.

The woman, one of his regulars, pointedly glanced at the man who just walked in and grinned at him, “good luck, Mr. Fell,” she said softly.

He looked surprised, then flushed. “Thank you, Ms. Hooper,” He replied stiffly, slightly embarrassed.

His marks thrummed, his body was on edge. Ezra was certain that was him.

In his shop.

_ Oh. _

With a child. He could be one of those people who grew tired of waiting, married instead of holding out for his mate.

Ezra’s nerves churned in the pit of his stomach. He’d waited and worried his whole life for this man and he could be entirely uninterested in him.

He peeked at the two who’d made their way to his youth section.

He finished the transaction, wished Ms. Hooper on her way, and reluctantly made his way over to the man and boy.

“Now, what brings you in today?”

The boy turned around, his blue eyes bright and happy. “Dad said I could pick out two books!” he said excitedly, “Do you have Harry Potter?”

Ezra smiled warmly at the child, “Of course, my dear. Which are you looking for?”

“The first two, he just saw the movies and insisted. This is the closest bookshop to ours.” The man added helpfully, purposefully avoiding eye contact.

Ezra led him to the shelf containing a variety of styles, and editions of Harry Potter. “I must ask, which house do you belong to?”

The boy’s eyes brightened even more, “Slytherin! Dad’s a Hufflepuff.”

“Am not.” The man grumbled.

The boy snorted, turning his attention back to the shelf.

“I’m a Slytherin too! Here, I think I have just the copy you’re looking for.” Ezra reached up to the top shelf and pulled down a slightly battered version of The Philosopher’s stone that was leather-bound with a green snake on the front.

“This is perfect! Look, dad!”

Ezra grinned, forgetting momentarily who he believed the other man was.

“What about you, sir? Are you looking for anything in particular?”

The man finally glanced up at him and froze. His mouth fell open, eyes widened behind his dark glasses and he was unable to speak. His cheeks warming to an attractive rosy glow.

The boy had turned back around and was glancing curiously between the two men, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Ngk.” Said the man.

“Oh,” said the boy, then his grin was back at full brightness. He held out a hand, his chin lifting proudly, “Warlock Crowley. Pleasure.”

He said the phrase so primly, it almost made Ezra laugh.

He took the hand, shaking firmly as he introduced himself, “Ezra Godson, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Oh, uh. Anthony Crowley, nice to… um, meet you.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly before reaching a hand out as well.

Ezra glanced at it curiously, then slowly accepted it. His marks showing slightly from beneath the sleeve of his button-up.

“Oh.” Said Anthony, he glanced away as he pulled his hand back from Ezra.

“It’s lovely to meet the two of you, I do hope to see you again.” Said Ezra, softly.

Anthony met his eyes and nodded, then he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the little boy.

“Dad…” he made a motion with his head, eyes widening for emphasis on something.

“Of course, you’d figure it out,” Anthony mumbled under his breath. Without skipping a beat, “Ezra, would you care to join us for lunch? We were thinking about trying the café down the way.”

Ezra found his lips pulling into a smile, “Of course! Mind, not for too long, but I’d love nothing more than to join you for lunch.”

Lunch, as it so happened, went off without a hitch.

Ezra learned a little about his mate: that he’d been on his own since he was sixteen. At twenty-two, he’d had Warlock. At twenty-three, he became a single father when Warlock’s mother decided to leave one night and never look back.

He learned that Crowley was a florist, with a shop on the other side of Soho. Ezra had heard of it, even walked by it a few times, but never had a reason to visit a florist and therefore had never been inside.

He learned that Crowley, as he’d asked to be called, owned a cat, had terrible vision during the day, and apparently couldn’t ride a bicycle. Ezra had helpfully pointed out that neither could he, pointing to the mark on Crowley’s lip which earned him a laugh in reply.

The child; Warlock had been an absolute doll. Ezra had always hoped he would have children, a hope that he was beginning to think might be granted to him after all.

They escorted Ezra back to his shop, their arms brushing as they walked. Once they arrived back to the shop, Crowley shyly slipped a scrap of paper into Ezra’s hands before turning and dragging Warlock away.

Ezra sent a text to the number that night; and they stayed up until midnight messaging  each other . 

The first time they kissed, Ezra swore he saw colors explode behind his eyes. He’d pulled him close and kissed him soundly, held securely in his arms. That night, he thanked God and any other deity listening for allowing Crowley to make it to him.

It was summer the first time Crowley saw him without his usual long-sleeved button-up shirt. They had decided to take Warlock to the beach for the day on a whim. Crowley had frozen stiffly when Ezra had stepped out of the shop. He’d taken Crowley’s hand and squeezed it lightly before sliding into the passenger’s seat.

Before he knew it, a year had passed in the blink of an eye. Crowley and he were dating, taking things slowly, something that truly was fine by him. He had never cared for sex, but he did adore kissing Crowley, loved the warm feel of him in his arms, his weight against him as he held him closely.

Tonight, was the anniversary of the day they’d met. Ezra and Crowley had spent the evening at Ezra’s flat. He and Warlock had made dinner, Spaghetti  Bolognese  with sprouts and garlic toast. The two had laughed and joked; mainly at the expense of Crowley’s cooking ability. Ezra had come to love the boy so much in the year he’d known him, he loved the family he’d found in his soulmate and his son.

The evening passed pleasantly, dinner was eaten, then dessert. A few rounds of Uno and hot chocolate, then Warlock was put to bed. The twelve-year-old had grumbled initially, but went happily with the promise of a pancake breakfast in the morning.

A bottle of wine was opened, which turned into two.

Eventually, Ezra rolled up his sleeves, hot from the alcohol and the warmth inside the shop.

Crowley flinched, running a finger across the colorful blemishes gracing Ezra’s arms. “It was my parents. They blamed me for their unhappiness.”

Ezra glanced up, “Why?” He had never been able to understand how anyone could harm their child, much less what he was certain had happened to Crowley. Children were blessings to be cherished, not harmed.

Crowley laughed bitterly, “You’ve heard of couples whose other half have died?”

“Secondary bonds? Those are rare.”

Crowley nodded, “My Parents were already with their mates when they died. They met afterward, it wasn’t a happy match. They believed a child would somehow make their marriage happier; fix things.” He swallowed, “It didn’t.”

Ezra reached across the cushion to place a comforting hand over Crowley’s knee.

He exhaled, “When I was born, they were happy for a little while. Unfortunately, I looked a little too much like my Mom’s first soulmate, he had hair like mine. Every time she saw me, it made her think of him. It escalated from there, my dad was no better. He was never violent, but his words wcould cut through you like a knife. I…” he shook his head. “May I?” asked Crowley, gesturing to his shirt.

Ezra nodded, feeling slightly self-conscious.

Trembling hands unbuttoned his shirt, slowly revealing a rainbow of colors beneath in different shapes and sizes. Crowley ran his finger over the fading scars, then he placed a warm hand over a mark just below Ezra’s heart.

“You died.” Stated Ezra.

Crowley nodded, “briefly.” he muttered as if it were nothing. He pulled his shirt over his head, exposing a variety of pale raised marks, Ezra gasped, his heart breaking again for the pain his beloved had experienced.

He pointed to the mirror mark, just below his own heart, “My Mom was angry, I don’t even know what I’d done this time. She had a knife in her hand, she’d been doing dishes.” His voice was pained, distant, “She screamed, turned around and all I knew was that it hurt.”

Ezra was crying, the hand on Crowley’s knee tightened as he moved closer to the other man. “Oh, my darling.” Whispered Ezra.

“My dad had rushed in, called an ambulance.” He glanced away, his voice heavy with emotion. “I saw my mother on the date of her trial. My father settled out of court. I haven’t seen them in a very long time.”

“I… that night, I thought I’d lost you. I felt it, all I knew was that you were leaving me, and we’d never gotten a chance to meet.”

Crowley nodded weakly, “I didn’t want to; meet you, that is. I was determined that I’d make my own way, I started working for a florist and discovered I was good at it. I met Harriet there, her mate had cheated on her and she had decided to buy herself flowers. We had no love for the other, but she was someone to get lost in. She didn’t ask questions and it was fun.” He told him, honestly.

Ezra nodded.

“She found out she was pregnant a few months after we met, it was supposed to be fun. We never imagined that would happen. She gave birth in a weird little satanic convent after visiting Thad to talk about their relationship.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow, “Is that where his…”

“Yup.” Crowley replied shaking his head, “His middle name is Winston, I had no say in it. He prefers his first name, I let him choose.”

“But she gave him your last name?”

“Yeah, I don’t think she ever planned on keeping him. Thad is a politician now, she lives in a big estate and had no interest in her first child.”

Ezra nodded, “She’s missing out, Warlock is a truly remarkable child.”

“He is. He loves you.”

“I love him, and you too. Regardless of how we got here, I’m glad to have you my dearest.” Ezra said, pulling Crowley closer to him until his back was flush against his chest and his legs rested on either side of the thin man. Ezra wrapped his arms snuggly around his waist and rested his face against Crowley’s. “I think,” he murmured, “that we were meant to find one another when we did.”

Crowley nodded, “I love you, too Ezra. And I’m glad we found you when we did. I was so alone, I love my son, but it was…”

“Isolating?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not alone anymore, dear heart.”

“No.” he grinned, moving his face slightly to kiss Ezra, the angle was awkward, but he relished the closeness nevertheless. When he pulled away, he leaned further into his mate, allowing his body heat to embrace him.

They sat like that, Ezra holding Crowley tightly. Just enjoying each other. Ezra sighed, “Crowley, my darling?”

“Hm?”

“Move in with me.”

He froze, his muscles tensing, turning his wide eyes to look at the other man. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything else.”

“Ok.”

“Good.”

“Alright,” Crowley confirmed. “Warlock’s a nightmare in the mornings.”

“Takes after his father that way, love.”

He snorted, “Tell him over breakfast?”

“Yes.” He smiled, placing a soft kiss on the side of his ear. “Ready for bed, dearest?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

As Ezra went to bed that night, he thought about all the times he worried and wished. All the times he’d hoped to one day have just this. He had a son who was sleeping peacefully in the guest room and his mate who was snuggled safely close against him.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this prompt on a tumblr post and it stuck with me.  
> Follow me on Tumblr: [AziraphalesRareBooks](Aziraphalesrarebooks.tumblr.com)  
> Request to follow me on Twitter: [Thestarlitrose](https://twitter.com/thestarlitrose)


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